


old friend

by shinoujii



Category: Batgirl (Comics), DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Heartache, Loneliness, Longing, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25437688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinoujii/pseuds/shinoujii
Summary: a series of barbara solos i wrote in 2016 that i didn't want to go to waste so i decided to put them here. they might not flow well together bc they weren't really meant to be side by side but whatever.it's meant to be her trying to cope over grayson's "death"
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson
Kudos: 9





	1. In Loving Memory

**Author's Note:**

> friendly reminder these were originally written in 2016 and i was a kid sooooo they might not really be that great but i didn't want to just delete them :P

Rain fell from the cloudy grey sky, drenching everything in its path. It was still the early morning, although the vaguely dark blanket that lied atop the city would make you think otherwise. Being in a cemetery, you'd think nothing could get any duller; but of course, this was Gotham, always here and ready to prove you wrong.  
  
The adults and elders distanced themselves from the younger generations as they gossiped to one another. Most people had already left, seeing as the service ended nearly an hour ago.  
  
Barbara stood completely still, almost as if she were frozen in place; staring heartbrokenly at the large stone in front of her. The name engraved into it read: ‘Richard John—’

"Grayson..." She breathed wistfully, her voice hardly even a whisper as tears burned behind bice hues. She couldn't even bring herself to say his first name in fear she'd break down right there. She tightly clutched the fabric of the scarf she was wearing as warm, transparent tears escaped their barrier and rolled down pallid cheeks.  
  
None of this felt real. It was like she was being forced to live through one of her greatest nightmares, unable to ever wake up. And throughout the entire funeral service, the only thought she had constantly going through her head was: _why couldn't it have been me?_  
  
"Barbara." A voice called out from behind the redhead, instantly snapping her out of her daze and back into reality.  
  
She quickly wiped her eyes dry with her scarf as she then turned around to see her father walking towards her with an umbrella in hand. "Dad," She spoke up, trying her best to force a small smile more so for her own sake rather than his. "What is it?"  
  
He remained quiet for a moment, not exactly knowing /what/ he could say. His brows furrowed troublesomely as he held the umbrella over the both of them. "Everyone's leaving... Maybe it's time we did the same. Come on, you're going to get sick if you stay out in this weather any longer." He placed a loving arm around her, gesturing for her to follow him.  
  
Hesitantly, she nodded her head. "Yeah..." She spoke up in a low, held back voice. "You're right. Lets go." She glanced back at the tombstone briefly before blinking away the oncoming tears and following her father towards the parking lot.  
  
She was silent throughout the entire car ride, just gazing out of the window longingly as millions of thoughts flooded her mind. Eventually, she began counting all of the trees they passed by, trying to focus on something other than the immense heartache she felt. Ultimately, her efforts failed, and her eyes came to a tired close as she rested her head against the cold glass, allowing the tears to flow down her face.  
  
"I know you two were close..." James spoke up carefully, a sense of dread and reluctance in his tone. "But he kept secrets from you, Barbara. Dangerous secrets." _He didn't know. He didn't have the slightest clue._  
  
"You keep secrets too." She retorted in a low, apathetic voice. Though she tried her best to mask her sadness, James could see straight through her.  
  
He pursed his lips together as he kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to upset the poor girl any further. "I'm sorry, sweetie..." His tone was as calm and comforting as ever, and for some reason, this only made her feel sicker than she already did.  
  
Finally, they arrived home. Many hours had passed, and Barbara kept herself locked up in her room. She wasn't asleep, but she buried herself under her covers of her bed.  
  
"Hey, kiddo." James called out with a soft smile, trying to lighten the mood even in the slightest as he stood in her doorway. "I made you a little snack." He spoke, placing down a small plate on her nightstand. It was a small portioned velvet cake, decorated expertly with achromatic vanilla frosting, a round crimson strawberry sitting atop the beautifully prepared sweet, emerald leaves still attached to the freshly picked fruit.  
  
Barbara sat up, crossing her legs over each other as her lips curled upwards ever so softly. "You made this yourself?" She questioned, delicate fingers gracing the cutlery that rested beside the plate before gently lifting the fork into their cautious grasp. She broke off a small chunk of the cake and slid it into her mouth.  
  
Flavors burst, an inexplicable taste grazing her taste buds. On any other day, the flavor would have warmed her on the inside out-- however, today, the sweet seemed bitter. Her emotions consumed even her sense of taste, destroying everything it could, considering Barbara's mind and soul were now wastelands of anxiety and depression.  
  
As soon as she sat the fork atop the plate, signifying that she was finished with the dessert, James knew something was _very wrong._ The girl had only taken two bites of the cake, and Jim was more than positive that this was the best dessert he'd ever prepared.  
  
This was so much more than just the loss of an old friend-- she very clearly still had feelings for Dick.  
  
"I'm finished..." She spoke softly, referring to the barely touched sweet before her. "I'm sorry I couldn't eat more of it, I'm not feeling very hungry right now..."  
  
James simply nodded, taking the dish from the girl's hands as he then exited the room, closing the oaken door behind him without a word. What was there to say? Right now, it'd probably be best to give her some time alone-- let her mourn in her own way, hoping that maybe she'll come to terms with her loss and accept it.  
  
She continued to sit there, enjoying the tranquility that imbued the room. She let out a sigh as she turned her head, running her frail fingers through her long, titian hair. She watched as the coral-violet sky drained away, a blanket of darkness taking its place.  
  
This couldn't actually be real, could it? He couldn't die. There was absolutely _no_ way Dick was dead... She never even got to tell him that... _that she still..._  
  
Verdant hues were once again hazed over with tears, hidden behind ginger locks that spilled over her face, gravity pulling them down as the girl refused to lift her head. A heavy, pained sigh emitted past her rose petal lips as she lied back down on the pillow-top mattress, once again hiding underneath the feather-stuffed duvet. She desperately clutched the blanket over her heart as her expression contorted, tears staining her face and pillow as her sobbing filled the echoes of the room.  
  
_"Dick Grayson, you idiot..."_


	2. Bereavement

The sun was mere minutes from rising, and Barbara didn't get a blink of sleep that night. Simply saying she was restless was an understatement. She was drained both physically and mentally, running on empty at this point.  
  
Frail fingers ran through titian hair, grabbing the silky locks as anxiety flooded her lungs. "I can't. I just... _I can't do this._ " Breathing fast, she released her grip and brought her arms down to bury her face in the palms of her hands. "Dick Grayson, you _idiot_..." Her voice was hardly audible-- the hurt and sorrow she felt weighing down her words, so heavy it was amazing that she was even able to speak them.  
  
"Why..?" The poor girl whimpered out, tears flowing past ebony eyelashes and landing onto milky thighs. "You idiot, why did you have to go and..." She didn't finish that sentence. She _couldn't_ finish that sentence.  
  
Her arms dropped down and she wrapped them around herself protectively, tilting her head back as she looked up to the ceiling in a poor attempt to end the crying. This only caused the transparent tears to build up, slowly but ultimately, causing them to slide down rosy cheeks.  
  
She just wanted it to stop. She wanted the world to cease turning-- for someone to just come in and give her some mercy, and just end it all. This was absolutely torturous, being forced to live in a mere plane of existence. That's all it felt like. A purgatory with hellish elements.  
  
Her mind wouldn't quiet down. It was as if there were hundreds of voices all speaking at once. Thoughts rushing through her head and every memory of the boy cut an ever so deep wound into her heart. It was utterly painful, and her chest kept aching for the loss she had.

 _"What if it was my fault?"_ Glassy eyes trailed from one end of the ceiling to the other as she tightly clutched the duvet around herself, knuckles turning a dangerous white whilst wrinkling the fabric. _"I should have kept him from leaving... I should have... I should have been there..."_

A sigh emitted past chapped lips as she hung her head low once more, copper locks spilling past her shoulders and cascading around her face, concealing the tears that fell from her eyes.  
  
Only the girl's soft cries were heard over the silence that filled the room. There were no words anyone could say to fix what had been done; to comfort her tired mind.  
  
She fell back on the bed, unable to even support herself anymore as swollen jade hues drifted to a weary close, her small frame curling into a ball. "I don't want to feel anything anymore..." She mumbled in a faint, worn out voice.


	3. Languish

_The touch of your lips gracing my neck still lingers to this very day. I can still feel your warmth. I can still imagine you every time I sleep on your side of the bed, taking in your scent because it's all I have left of you besides your shirts that are way too big for me, but I wear them to bed anyways. I still remember your touch, your bite, the silkiness of your voice as you whispered sweet nothings into my ear. Dick, I will never forget... But I need you here with me. The bed is so cold without you, and all the blankets in the world can't warm me up._   
  
_I dreamt of you last night. Your body was pressed to mine and you just held me close, whispering that you would come back to me. I don't know if it was really you, or if my mind was just so desperate for hope it had made some itself._   
  
_Is this a sickness that's eating me up inside? Or is it my thoughts that make my insides rot, my lungs collapse, and my soul crumble within itself?_   
  
_Where are you?_   
  
_Where have you been?_   
  
_I wish you could be here with me-- for me._   
  
_This loneliness hollowed out my chest, and the emptiness that fills me weighs me down and makes living a chore. The weight of the nothingness in my chest is too heavy for me to carry on my own._   
  
_The last time you graced me with your lips, you gave me a fatal disease. It eats away at me day by day, and while I may be healthy physically-- mentally, I am dying; rotting away into nullity._   
  
_You were what made me the strong person I used to be. You gave me the courage to do whatever it took to be victorious, to bring justice amongst the wronged. I spoke and walked and lived with the upmost confidence and self-respect anyone will ever see._   
  
_...But it was because of you..._   
  
_When you left, you took who I was with you-- leaving this hollow shell here, waiting for you to realize you'd forgotten me, waiting for you to come back for me, for you to cure this disease and free me of who I have become. I'm waiting here, waiting for you to save me from myself._   
  
_I just miss you so much..._


	4. Breathing Space

Pain.  
  
An emotion that can drown out sorrows, smother them and hide them in the deepest, darkest crevices of one's mind.  
  
 _But the pain is not teaching me anything._  
  
What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to love anyone else. It's you-- it's always been you. Going anywhere other than where you are always felt wrong. _You were everything to me._  
  
You were the grass, the trees, even the air that I breathe. But ever since you left, there's been holes in my lungs, and flowers have begun growing there. They may be beautiful, but suddenly I can't breathe, and I'm overcome by the feeling of regret as I struggle for my life.  
  
You reach out to me-- a respiration of fresh air, and I take it without even thinking. Just as I exhale, you rip yourself from my life again, quick and violent like a slap across the face for believing you, permanently leaving guards of insecurity and fear, paroling for even the slightest sense of trust.  
  
There has to be more than this. I _need_ there to be more than this.  
  
Where are you? Where have you been?  
  
My blood boils at the sound of your name, but I'll always know that the hate you made me feel for myself is a lesson-- a story that taught me that losing my mind trying so hard to get on yours was never really worth it. I learned that some mornings I wake up and I'm weighted down by every bad thing that's ever happened to me, but lately because of you, I've been able to get out of bed, reminding myself that screws fall out all the time.  
  
The world isn't perfect...  
  
 _And that's okay._  
  
There's a life I want to live out there, somewhere. I'm sure of it. Sometimes I have to remind myself that you're not here for me, you're just here. Nowadays, I can only handle you in small doses, Grayson. I just wish you'd stop playing tricks on me every time I believe I've found you again.  
  
I only regret the things we promised we'd share, but never did. If I gave you the chance, I know you'll just let me down again. You only seem to be able to tell the truth when you're about to leave. You've always been so used to being the one to say goodbye, but I'm not. I don't want much, I just need time. Time to think about this— about _us._ The problem's always been that I'd always thought you were never a person who could've done this to me. I'm sure you had your reasons, but I have mine too. You don't understand. You think you do, but you don't. _I wish you understood..._  
  
I would have let you hurt me forever. I can take a lot, you know that. But things have changed... You came back to life, and I'm still trying to do the same. Things won't always be like this. That's something I know in my heart. I haven't given up hope that someday-- someday I can be for you what you've always been for me. _I just need time..._  
  
I love you, okay? Always have and always will. I just need a minute to catch my breath.


End file.
